Rarely, Never Permanently

I am TRYING to take some time off. Really and honestly I am. My brain is porridge, my fingers twitch while I’m thinking–trying to type as I go about my day, naturally, and I keep drifting away in the middle of conversations as overloaded neurons collapse under the weight of small talk.

And there’s a holiday this week, too. One final trip for last-minute stuff, then I will stay home until Monday because I am not dealing with any Black Friday nonsense. Not this year, Satan.

Well, technically, not any year. But you get the idea.

In any case, I’ve a whole list of essentials to grab today, and I’ll be setting up the weekly subscription drop. Before 2020 I was doing really well at having at least a month’s (sometimes more) lead time for serial and subscription chapters; lo, how the mighty have fallen. In my defense it took a worldwide pandemic and fascist coup(s) to dent my productivity; I suppose I can feel a teensy bit justified.

The zero draft is still ringing in my head. I’m in the part of recovery where I still doubt the book is any good, and the urge to just throw the whole thing in the bin, tell my editor I’m never writing again, and flee screaming into the night is at its peak. I don’t know where the urge to destroy a just-finished work comes from; I’ve rarely given into it and never permanently.

Though it’s been close a few times. Very, very close.

So it’s probably good I’ve a long to-do list today, starting from walking the dogs to getting through the grocer’s without having to tell some maskhole to quit breathing disease on everyone. There’s boosters to schedule and some pre-cooking to do for Thursday, and it looks like a rainy enough day that I can also settle on the couch and get some reading done.

I’ve been too exhausted to do much other than stare at a glowing screen instead of reading for a couple days, and it’s bothering me. I’ve got a book on Agrippina just dying for some attention.

Not looking forward to leaving the house today, but it’s gotta be done. I suppose I’d best get started, so I can get home earlier, get into some comfortable pants, and begin cooking.

Technically, I’m out of the office until Monday. We’ll see if I can refrain from working at all until then. Gonna be rough, but maybe all the ham on Thursday will help. (I never turkey if I can help it.) Miss B will be extremely pleased–one year, she managed to get half a pig-butt off the counter, and was trying to arrange things so I’d blame the late, lamented Odd Trundles for the whole affair…

But that’s another story. See you in a few days, my dears.